Boots-o-rama
I woke this morning at 4:00 to the furious growls and barks of my pit bull, Bruno. His thrashing against our metal gate grew move violent, then he bolted through the dog door and began growling and barking at the front door. I knew there must have been something going on, so I peered through the shutters to see the slinky form of a coyote, ears erect, he stretched across the lawn.
Then, I saw some commotion across the street. Another, larger coyote was framed in the vee of our two palm trees; his silhouette illuminated by a landscape light was black against the light stucco of the house across the street.
The image was captivating. I could tell he was eating something that looked like a large rabbit. I went for my camera to take some photos of this National-Geographic-in-Suburbia moment. But, my camera flashed against the window and all I took were two reflections of my own knuckles before the batter died and the camera refused to snap.
Meanwhile, my dogs were whimpering and whining at the beasts outside. And since I was vertical, the mews from the feline side of the family grew more and more insistent.
I realized then, that the yowling for treats wasn’t the usual stereo of both cats. Bocce was doing enough begging for both of them. But Bootsie wasn’t there.
I looked all over and whistled for my Bootsie. She’d been trained to run toward me as soon she hears the William Tell Overture. And she’ never missed a treat since she was born in my closet in a box full of purses and shoes. That was 15 years ago. Poor Bootsie will probably not be coming back. I’m broken hearted. I think I witnessed my own kitty being devoured and the images keep flashing in my mind.
At daylight, there was no trace of her, not even her collar. I don’t think coyotes would eat her collar, but it’s now 12 hours later and temperatures reached over 110 today. Bootsie hasn’t come home.
She’s slept at the foot of my bed every night. I’m so sad that she will probably not be there, purring gently against my legs. But, I do find some comfort in thinking that she probably went quickly, and she had 15 years of leisure and love. She was the best.
It’s going to be a long time before I stop hoping against hope that she comes home.
